


imagine being loved by me

by misbehavin



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Barry Allen, Praise Kink, Talking, wow that's such a westallen tag hONESTLY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbehavin/pseuds/misbehavin
Summary: "You had a crush on me as in, you wanted to— Make out with me? And you, like, you fantasized about me or was it—""Yeah, sometimes. What about you?" questions Iris, raising an eyebrow, turning this on him. "Did you fantasize about me?





	imagine being loved by me

**Author's Note:**

> i missed them and this happened 🤷🏾  
> dunno how i feel about it tbh, but then again it's almost 4 in the morning where i live so like, this could be fine and im just too sleep-deprived to know. i mean, writing-wise it is what it is i guESS but about everything else:  
> is smut my strong suit? absolutely not. does it stop me from adding it to my fics? also no.  
> this is mostly fluff though bc that's how i roll sooo, yknow, you be the judge
> 
> (anyway, as per usual, let me know if you like it!!)

Iris frowns after she puts her bag down. "Where are we gonna sleep?"

They're cleaning the house the next morning because Cecile and Joe are out on a mini-vacation and last thing baby Jenna needs is to return to a dusty home. Barry could clean the place up in a beat of course, but it's been a while since they actually stayed at the house so this turned out to be the perfect opportunity to soothe how much they miss it. This is their home too, no matter how much time has passed and how things have changed.

"Anywhere you want, I don't mind," says Barry, sipping a glass of water.

Iris considers it. The spare bedroom was turned into Jenna's nursery. The couch is comfortable enough, but barely fits them. In Iris' old bedroom, the light keeps flickering as she soon finds out, and the bed wouldn't fit the two of them at all.

When she opens the door to Barry's old room, she can't help but be surprised: her dad and Barry must have taken down most of the nerdy posters, put away furniture that's not being used. It's still very much Barry, but without most indications of a teenager's room— except for the ugly Back To The Future adhesive on one of the bedposts and a nice drawing of Princess Leia's space buns on the desk. (Iris smiles to herself; she likes to pretend she doesn't get any nerdy pop culture reference just to see Barry squirm and she likes it way too much).

She throws herself on the mattress and stares at the ceiling. 

As far as Flash business goes, they've had a pretty chill week. So much so that she got more writing done than she did in the past couple of months, and she's got at least two major pieces ready to be published in the following days.

However, she's far from tired right now. It's past her bedtime and the last on her mind is sleep.

"Here?" Barry says, from the corridor, just as she's about to call him. "Do you think we'll fit?"

Iris waves him over. "Let's test it out."

She takes off her shoes and lays on her side, making space for him. 

Barry joins her, his back to her chest, and thankfully he's far from falling off the bed.

"Thank god you've always been one big boy," mutters Iris, absentmindedly. She wraps her arms around him tight, kisses the back of his neck softly.

"Um, _okay,_ " Barry says and his tone makes Iris rethink her words.

"Oh my god, I didn't mean—" At his laugh she adds, "Shut up."

"You said it! It's not my fault."

"Stop, you know what I meant," she says, holding back her own laughter.

Barry turns around in her arms, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Iris smiles at him and they lean into each other until their lips meet briefly.

"You know, I'm not in the mood for sleeping right now…" His hand is on her hip, thumb tracing lazy circles. His fingertips dance on her skin, then touch her back smoothly up and down, the most tender of caresses.

She shivers a bit, gets up on one of her elbows, eyebrows raised, "Oh?" 

Barry leans in again and the kiss is still as gentle as before, but now he bites down softly on her bottom lip. He pulls away to watch her face, the two of them breathing the same warm air. 

"Sometimes I can't believe you're actually my wife," he confesses. It's so sudden it makes Iris pause. She's about to say the same thing, to tell him she loves him more than should be possible to love someone, but Barry adds, in a rushed breath, "I remember writing you a letter when we were teenagers. Right in this bed. A letter telling you everything," he swallows, "I wanted so bad to tell you how much I love you, Iris."

She runs her fingers through his hair, watches him as he closes his eyes. 

"Sometimes I wish you did, you know," she says, kind and wistful, "I wonder what would've happened." 

Barry opens his eyes, brows furrowed. His caress on her stops altogether. "What do you mean? You know what would've happened."

"It would've saved us a lot of time, that's for sure."

"What? No. No way," he shakes his head, "You would've totally turned me down."

Taken aback, Iris blinks a few times. "No, I wouldn't."

Barry breathes out, like he wants to run away from this whole conversation. "I was so not your type. And it's fine, because I know you're into me now but—"

"Bear, what on Earth are you talking about? Of course you were my type."

"I'm pretty sure you were only into muscular jocks and cheerleaders in High School."

Iris stares in utter shock. "Yeah, okay, I dated them, but I always preferred to hook up with people who were the least like you _because_ I had a crush on you."

Now Barry goes still. His voice is so, _so_ quiet when he speaks it's barely audible, "What?"

She understands him. He spent his whole life talking himself out of confessing how he felt whenever he got the chance, it was only natural for him to be caught up in his own pining to not realize she felt the same. But to think that back then that wasn't even a possibility? Iris can't wrap her head around that. Barry had always been awkward but she never imagined he ever thought himself to be undeserving of her. Quite the contrary: she thought he'd been always sure they belonged together. Well, maybe that was only partially true. Maybe he believed both, who knows: that they were right for each other yet he'd never get the chance to be with her. 

She shakes her head, outraged. For someone that smart, what a dumb, oblivious baby, the love of her life was.

"I kept hooking up with people who were nothing like you 'cause, I don't know, I wanted to trick myself into thinking about anyone who wasn't you," she tries to explain it. It made sense at the time, even if now it all seems silly. She shrugs, "Didn't always work."

There's a moment until Barry digests everything he just heard. He looks flabbergasted, and Iris wants to laugh. He's so beautiful and kind and she loves him, loves everything there is to him _—_ how can he be _this_ surprised?

"You had a crush on me?" he asks, voice laced with disbelief.

"Oh yeah," she grins, the palm of her hand cradling his face gently, "Big time, babe."

Barry's grip on her hip gets firmer. He licks his lips, and Iris can almost imagine the engines of his brain trying to come up with something to say. "You had a crush on me as in, you wanted to— Make out with me? And you, like, you fantasized about me or was it—"

"Yeah, sometimes. What about you?" questions Iris, raising an eyebrow, turning this on him. She rubs her thumb behind his ear, awaits for his reaction: his whole body inching closer to hers. "Did you fantasize about me?"

His cheeks turn pink, the point of his nose too. "Well, I tried not to."

She nods. "Can you tell me?"

He snorts, smiling self-depreciative, "It's embarrassing."

"C'mon, tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, please," she peppers his face with kisses, makes a trail of it down his neck. 

"I dunno, most of the time I just imagined you saying that you wanted me back."

A rush of affection boils up inside her and _explodes_. "I did," she says. "I do." 

She holds his face between her hands and kisses him senseless, in a futile attempt to show him just how much she wants him, how much she's always wanted him. Barry doesn't seem any closer to believing it when they break the kiss, out of breath.

Iris pushes him down the mattress, her hands on his shoulders, looming over him. "I want you to tell me, okay? You're gonna touch yourself and you're gonna tell me."

Barry blinks, shuddering. "Okay."

Undressing is quick, practical. 

She lays half on top of him, leaning on her elbow so as to be able to watch him. 

"Alright," he says, mostly to himself.

It starts slow, and she can tell by the sound of it and his breathing. "You're not gonna look?" asks Barry, smirking.

"Maybe later," she answers, fingers tracing the line of his collarbones, his jaw, the shape of his mouth. "First I want to just look at your face."

He swallows, breathing in deeply.

She kisses his shoulder, " _So?_ What did you think about back then? What did you want?"

"I—" he starts, "I wanted you to let me touch you, obviously."

"And?"

"And I wanted you to touch me." He bites down his bottom lip and she licks it, presses a kiss or two there.

"Yeah?"

Barry closes his eyes. His strokes are firm, and they must be feeling good, given he's flushed and soon enough there's already a small bead of sweat on his forehead. Iris swipes it clean then runs her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with her nails.

The softest of moans escape him and she can't help but think, _God,_ _yes._

"And I wanted you to say I was good," he admits, after a few seconds.

"Good? What, like you're good boy?" She tries out the words, just to see his reaction.

Barry's entire body reacts like he felt a small electric shock go through him.

"Um, n-no!" he stutters, shakes his head, "No, hah— that's— No."

Iris frowns, "It's okay."

"That's not what I wanted to tell you. Let's just. Just talk about something else."

She considers it. But the way he reacted stops her from agreeing.

"I don't think so. Do you like it? When I say stuff like that?"

He doesn't answer. He tilts his head just so and their lips meet, like crashing waves. Barry's tongue is hot, and Iris welcomes it.

But then she breaks them apart and asks, again, "Tell me."

"Iris—"

An idea surges in her mind and she says it out loud before she can think too much about it and backout, "You can't come until I tell you to, okay? And you'll come only if you tell me the truth."

That does it. Barry curses, " _Fuck,"_ and holds himself tight to prevent from finishing right then and there. 

"Iris, c'mon."

She scratches her nails down his abs. "Barry, don't you trust me?"

He nods, vehemently. "Of course I do."

"So just tell me. I love you," she kisses the spot behind his ear, sucks on the skin a little. His breath hitches in the most delicious way, so she does it again. "You really don't think I'd give you anything you want?"

"Okay. Okay, yeah," he admits, breathless, resuming his strokes. "I like it."

"Alright. Besides that, did you think about anything else?"

"Your mouth."

Now Iris is the one who breathes out slowly. She's been doing an incredible job at ignoring how wet she is already, the latent pulse between her legs.

Barry looks amazing, pliant under her touch. She obliges him, places her lips all over his torso, down his navel. She takes his hand off himself, presses it down the mattress, and kisses the inside of his thighs.

"Wha—?"

"Stay still."

Not an easy task but he does his best to not move too much. He's trembling. At each kiss Iris leaves on his skin, his muscles tense up a bit.

"Bear, relax," she murmurs. 

He looks down to meet her eyes and swallows, hard. "Okay," he says, voice hoarse.

Iris moves her kisses up his body, until her lips meet his again. "I didn't know you liked this type of stuff," she muses, sitting directly on his crotch. Barry gasps. "Should've told me. You look amazing like this."

"Yeah?" He tries to smile, a resquice of insecurity smothering it down.

"Mhm," she assures, hoping it gets through his thick skull. "You're beautiful all of the time but like this… It's almost too much."

Barry fidgets, but he's still smiling, bathing in her attention.

" _You're_ beautiful," he says, and as much as she likes his compliments, Iris is not having this whole thing turned on her. 

She reaches for the bedside drawers, mind changed and set on making the best out of what she just learned. Screw just _watching_. Her entire body anticipates the feeling of Barry inside her, as if it doesn't already know what it's like and longs for it constantly. 

When she holds him steady so she can guide him, Barry grunts and breathes out, slow, his eyes closed tight in deep concentration.

For a fraction of a moment, Iris just stays there, admiring the shape of his jaw, the blush on his cheekbones spreading all the way down across his chest. 

"Iris," his voice trembles. "Please move."

And so she does. His hand squeezes her ass, his hips move up and forward to meet her every thrust. She has his other hand pinned to the mattress, their fingers interlaced.

"That feels so good," she says, and _means_ it. "Just as well we didn't date back in High School. I would, _nnhhgh,_ I would probably develop a really creepy obsession with your dick."

That makes Barry laugh, a full-body laughter that makes him shake underneath her. Her heart flutters at the sound.

"Oh my god," he says, between heaves and then, more moans. "Oh, _fuck_. _Fuck_ , _Iris—"_

"Are you close, baby?" She asks, chasing after her own climax. 

He nods, eyes glazed. "Ladies first, though." His free hand reaches for her clit and Iris whimpers, tugs his hair a bit to pull him into a kiss. 

Barry keeps his movements circular, the pressure right and Iris hides her face on his neck. "You're so good," she chants quietly close to his ear. "So good, so good, I love you so much, _fuck_ , Bear—"

She comes and there's nothing else on her mind besides Barry's warmth. Her legs feel like jelly but when he flips them and keeps up his pace she still manages to cross her ankles behind him and lock him in her orbit. 

"C'mon, baby," she urges him. "Be a good boy and come for me."

" _Fuck,"_ Barry curses, over and over.

It doesn't take long until he's done for and Iris kisses his mouth quickly, then his chin. She rubs his arms and his back, soothing, as he catches his breath.

Their foreheads touch and he mirrors her smirk. The longer they share the same adoring gaze, the slower time seems to pass, the more it feels like what they feel for one another grows, exponentially, as if it can be as big as the universe — and, well, maybe it is. 

Barry says her name once more, and Iris thinks, yeah. Maybe it is.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
